


Missing in Action

by abeautifulmessofcontradictions, TheTwoFlamingos, tinyPsycho77



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Search&Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifulmessofcontradictions/pseuds/abeautifulmessofcontradictions, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwoFlamingos/pseuds/TheTwoFlamingos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyPsycho77/pseuds/tinyPsycho77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2 day, 7 hours, 38 minutes and...24 seconds, that’s how long it had been since Elizabeth Keen had laid eyes on Raymond Reddington. (I live for your comments so please blow up my inbox!!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta/co-author abeautifulmessofcontradictions. This marks my very first smut-free story!

Pain. Intolerable, excruciating pain was the first thing his brain registered once it rebooted. White hot fire coursed through his body, causing his teeth to grind together and his vocal cords to convulse. Every bone in his 5”10 stature screamed at him, his muscles spasmed each time he inhaled and the pain doubled on the exhale.

The stars stung his eyes once he had regained command of his senses, wet copper coated his tongue and trickled out of the corner of his parted lips, icy wind ghosted over his body winding through the short hairs on his head and arms, sending a shiver down his spine. Crickets mocked his inability to recollect the series of events that had placed him in his current predicament, and the heavy scent of oak assaulted his nasal passage so viciously it caused a wave of nausea to crash over him.

Instinctively, he torqued his body to the side, aiming his mouth at the grass to avoid choking on whatever was about to escape him. Nothing came, nothing but another bout of agonizing pain.

He tried to remember how he got here, wherever here was, but his cerebral cortex was unresponsive, dizziness set in, the stars swam before his eyes. He gave in, letting his lids block out the stars, and succumbed to unconsciousness.

*****

2 day, 7 hours, 38 minutes and...24 seconds.

That’s how long it had been since Elizabeth Keen had laid eyes on Raymond Reddington.

Her cheeks began to heat up as the memory of their last exchange resonated in her skull.

_“I don’t get it, Lizzie, after everything he’s done to you, why do you continue to defend him?”_

_All she had wanted was one night to herself, one night without work, without Tom, and definitely without Raymond Reddington. The bottle of Merlot had been breathing on her coffee table, a stemless glass rested on the coaster next to it and Secretary queued up on her DVD player when her door was practically bashed in._

_“What the hell do you want, Reddington?”_

_Just the sight of him made her blood pressure rise and her heart flutter; she had to question her own sanity over the contradicting emotions battling for dominance inside her. How was it that this man, who made her want to tear her hair out, also made her flush with desire?_

_“I want to know why you seem hell-bent on going down this path? Was it not enough for you that he held you at gunpoint? Cheated on you? Put your name on a kill list? Hell, Lizzie, he set you up for the death of the Harbor Master! Not to mention the destruction you both unleashed on each other in your own home!”_

_Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palm, her muscles tensing with each word that passed his lips. She knew everything he was saying was true but that didn’t stop her from getting all worked up about it._

_"Who the hell are you to judge?" Her finger almost broke as it poked the surprisingly solid muscles under his suit jacket._

_Why did the spicy scent of his cologne make her weak?_

_“He was my husband!" She fought against the tears that threatened to spill, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "I was so happy before you interfered in my life, Reddington! Do you care about anything? Because every time I turn around, there you are, watching over me like a hawk, getting in my business. Well, you know what? I don't need you around anymore! I have Tom, and we are going to make this work. Every time you show up, my life is turned upside down! So why don’t you do me a favor and just drop dead!"_

She tipped back the remainder of the Pinot Grigio and almost snapped the stem of her glass on the table. Her nails dug into her temples, and guilt slammed into her chest. She had done this to herself. She had asked him to go away and he had and now she would never see him again.

Liz tried to convince herself that it was for the best, that she needed to move on from him, but she knew it was a lie. She needed him in her life, she wanted him there. Tears stung her eyes and she pushed the thought away. She tried to delude herself into thinking that she and Tom could have a future together, that she could have a complete life, a child, a family. She closed her eyes and tried to picture their happiness in her mind’s eye: she and Tom smiling over the tiny swaddled form of their baby, lying on the floor with their toddler on a blanket playing with blocks, swinging their daughter hand-in-hand between them as they walked through the park.

Red’s face loomed over her happy imaginings, morphing from Tom’s as her dream changed form. Her eyes snapped open in alarm. No! That wasn’t what she wanted! She screamed in her mind that she wanted Tom, that she would be happy, that she didn’t need him.

But what if she did? A small voice whispered at the back of her mind that it shouldn’t be this hard, she shouldn’t have to work this much to convince herself that Tom was the one she wanted, not if it was right.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, wondering what it all meant. She tucked her legs under her on the couch and reached for her wine glass again, reclining against the soft fabric of the couch Red had bought her. Golden liquid swirled gently in the glass as she contemplated her wine thoughtfully, searching her brain for the necessary contradictions between the two men to convince herself she was making the right choice.

Absently, she reached for the notepad lying on her coffee table. She doodled randomly until a thought occurred to her that maybe comparing them was _exactly_ what she should do. Setting her glass down again, she hastily drew a two-column chart and labeled a side for each man, her lips quirking up at the thought that this was incredibly juvenile, and yet, it might actually work.

When she was finished, her eyes ran down the column of pros and cons for each man. She sighed in frustration: it didn’t matter how good Tom looked on paper, Red would always be the one she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

It irritated Red how obnoxiously the sun was smiling at him; if it had been a living entity, he would have strangled it without hesitation, and he suddenly wished the stars would come back.

_How long have I been here? Where am I?_

He slowly rolled onto his side, gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of pain, and hoisted himself into a sitting position. He cried out as his leg shifted and his eyes immediately honed in on that particular body part, his fingers gingerly poking at his silk-covered thigh.

“Fuck.” Even speaking, no matter how much of a whisper, hurt like hell.

Judging by the swelling and the unnatural positioning of his extremity, his leg was definitely broken, in more than one place. He took his time inventorying his body; his shoulder was dislocated, but that was something he could take care of himself. Aside from a sore pinky, his hands and fingers had been spared. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that a couple of ribs were broken or, at the very least, badly bruised; the pain he felt each time he breathed was enough for him to discern that himself.

He tried, yet again, to recall how he had ended up on a ledge no bigger than a New York studio apartment. He remembered that he had been at Lizzie’s apartment, talking to her about Tom. He strained his memory to recall what else had happened last night.

_Lizzie, the argument, Tom, her telling me to drop dead, the cabin, sending Dembe away, going for a walk…_

The memory came rushing back, punching its way through the fog that clouded his mind. He remembered taking a walk in the woods, heading west, wanting to watch the sunset from the edge of the cliff. He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was. If he had been, he would have realized he was in bear territory. He had been so entranced by the tranquility of the setting sun, so lost in his own pain, that the sound of the grizzly bear had made him spin on his heel, losing his balance, his arms windmilling frantically before he dropped off the edge.

He felt foolish, really; he should have been more alert, more aware of his surroundings, but at least he was alive...for now.

Mindful of the beating his skull had taken, Red took in his surroundings. The grass was deceitful in its luscious appearance, offering his broken and battered body no comfort. He heard the rushing rapids down below him, hissing and crashing against the rocks. The rock wall that had served as some sort of macabre slip ‘n’ slide stood before him, challenging him to climb it.

Logically, he knew that climbing back up would be next to impossible, especially with his busted leg, but he needed to try; he would die otherwise. But, if he was to have any hope of getting up that cliff, he need to set and brace his leg and relocate his shoulder first.

Red’s gaze skittered around his little perch, searching for anything that he could use to splint his leg. The ledge he was currently occupying offered a few broken branches and half a decaying log. He fought against the pain, biting down on a scream as he pulled himself towards the junkyard of snapped wood, thanking whatever deity was listening when he found two thick, sturdy planks of oak.

_Alright, shoulder first then leg._

Red flexed his fingers, taking deep, even breaths. _Okay, you can do this, you’ve done it before._ A nervous sweat broke out across his brow and he wiped his clammy palm against his dirt-covered pants. Carefully, he peeled his jacket away, grunting in pain as his injuries protested again. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take soothing breaths, doing his best to block out the pulses of pain. He positioned his good hand against his shoulder and, with a series of quick movements, felt the tell-tale pop of his shoulder sliding back into place.

His cry echoed off the rocks, resounding all around him. Tears stung his eyes and he quelled the urge to slam his fist into the soil, his chest burning as he sucked in air like a drowning man. He allowed himself a few minutes of wallowing to let the throbbing in his shoulder subside.

_Okay, now for the leg. No big deal, I’m just going to re-break it and then set it. Nothing to it, piece of cake. Right._

He slipped the tie from around his neck, momentarily displeased that his new acquisition was about to be ruined. He gathered up the planks of wood, placing one on each side of his mangled limb.

_Okay, Raymond, this is going to hurt but if you don’t do this, then there’s a chance you’ll never walk right again. Or worse, you’ll lose the leg. You don’t want to lose your leg, do you?_

Sweat coated his forehead as he tried to prepare himself for the pain he was about to experience. _Just grab, twist, and push. That’s all there is to it._

Blindly, he snatched up his discarded jacket, stuffing one of the sleeves into his mouth. He dropped his hands to his leg, one gripping his knee, the other lower on his calf. He took several rapid breaths through his nose, and with all the strength he could muster, he twisted his hands. The sound of his bones snapping was drowned out by an anguished scream of pain. He took two ragged breaths around the fabric of his jacket; tears poured down his face as his body spasmed.

Before he lost his nerve, he braced the two planks against his leg and quickly wrapped the tie around it, yanking the fabric in a tight knot and letting out another cry of pain before falling back onto the grass, surrendering himself over to the darkness.  
*****

The warm ceramic mug did little to sooth her nerves, but she clutched it anyway, out of habit, out of desperation. It had been almost four days since she had seen Red, and she beyond worried. Had her words hurt him that much? Had he taken her anger seriously and left? She grabbed her phone and hit the first speed dial number.

_The number you have dialed is not in-_

She stabbed viciously at the screen and tossed it back onto the coffee table, frustrated with his childish behaviour. He had to know that she didn’t mean what she’d said; she was angry and he was an available punching bag.

Where _was_ he? If she could only just talk to him, make sure he was ok, then she would feel better. She just needed to know that he was alright, that he was safe somewhere and hating her. Even that would be preferable to this oppressive silence, this heavy weight of uncertainty.

Liz paced her empty apartment, pent-up anxiety forcing her steps to be jerky, her movements incomplete. She picked up the paper from the dining room table, then put it down, then picked it up again, snapping it angrily in the still air of the room. Her steps carried her into the kitchen to wash an empty coffee cup lying next to the sink. Caffeine had been her constant companion for the last three days, along with worry and concern.

She wondered if he had just decided to abandon their Blacklist project altogether, if he had decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. Perhaps he had called Kate and arranged for his private jet to spirit him away, the beneficiary of one of his very own disappearance packages. Maybe he was lounging on a beach somewhere this very minute, sipping Mai Tai’s with some beautiful local, or worse, cruising the Florence waterways in a private barchetto with Madeline Pratt.

The coffee mug slid from her soapy grasp, clattering loudly against the stainless steel of the sink basin. Had she flung it or had it slipped? Anger and hurt pride battled with the apprehension churning in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Red with another woman, any other woman, but especially _that_ woman. Hands braced against the edge of the counter, she leaned forward, dropping her head forward in defeat.

She had never felt this way about Tom, not even when she had had his indiscretions thrown in her face. This jealousy was...new. And why was she feeling it for Red? He had never shown any romantic interest in her before, not really. Or had he? Had she just never noticed?

Liz closed her eyes, her mind flashing back over all their interactions during the past three years, every subtle caress of his hand on hers, every hug, the deep baritone of his voice when he murmured her name. Slow, lazy ringlets of desire unfurled in her belly at the thought of him. Her eyes clenched tightly shut as she thought of all the times he had made her world right again, seeing his actions for the first time in a light that didn’t paint him as the villain invading her life for his own selfish gains. This view of him was startling: she began to realize with stunning clarity, all the things he had done to protect her, to advance her career, to help her see the truth of her marriage on her own.

Her own words came back to her, _I was so happy before you interfered in my life, Reddington!_ But, had she been? Had she been happy with Tom before? Or had she only been happy with the illusion? Because she hadn’t known better? _Every time you show up, my life is turned upside down!_ And, how long could that have lasted? She was, after all, a person who prided herself on truth and honesty, on openness and answers. How long could she really have been happy with a person whose entire life was built on lies?

A sob shook her shoulders and she brought a hand up to stifle the sound against her lips. She had been so selfish, so very blind. All this time, he had never done _anything_ to hurt her; everything had been to shelter her or guide her towards the truth. And she had punished him for it, she had pushed him away and spat on his offering. Her words rushed at her, like a train barreling head on towards her that she couldn’t stop. _Do you care about anything?_ He cared about her. She was, maybe, the only thing he did care about.

She was a fool and there was no way to make it right. She had said awful things, done awful things to spite him, and now he was gone. _I don't need you around anymore! I have Tom, and we are going to make this work._ She trembled, her shoulders arching lower toward the sink as she struggled to hold her balance under the weight of her newfound realizations. She had said terrible things and he had listened, had done exactly what she’d asked of him and left.

_So why don’t you do me a favor and just drop dead!_

Her eyes sprang open, a gasp escaping her lips. Surely, he wouldn’t have done _that_? She spun away from the counter, eyes casting wildly about the room. She needed to tell him she was sorry, she needed him to know that she was grateful, that she understood why he had done all the things he had. She needed him to know that she...loved him, too.

This would not do, she couldn’t continue on like this not knowing where he was or what he was doing. She just needed to hear his voice, to know that he was ok.

Liz raced to the coffee table, snatching her phone up and dialing the second number on her speed dial: Dembe’s. He would know where Red was; he would know what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always reviews are most welcome..lets be honest, they feed my desire to write!!!

_He could do nothing more than watch her walk to the door. She was upset, he was upset, but he didn’t want her to leave._

_"Lizzie." His voice sounded weak and pathetic._

_She stopped but did not turn to face him._

_"Sweetheart, I...I'm sorry." He took a tentative step towards her, his hand outstretched, “I’m so sorry.”_

_She let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders sagged forward._

_He circled in front of her, his hands gently cupped her face. "I’m sorry for not telling you everything you wanted to know, I’m sorry for bringing Tom into your life...for not letting you into mine..." His eyes dropped to the floor as he took in a deep breath._

_She raised her eyes to meet his, but remained silent._

_He caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb, his gaze never wavering from hers. "Lizzie, I need you in my life. If you walk out that door right now…I've lost you forever, and I don’t think I could handle that."_

_A lone tear escaped from his eye and travelled down his cheek._

_Slowly, she reached up, gently brushing the tear away. "You'll never lose me, Red.” She stepped closer to him, their bodies just touching, “I love you, Red."_

_“Lizzie.” His voice quietly whispered her name._

_They slowly leaned into each other, their lips only centimeters apart…_

Raging pain steamrolled through his fantasy, shattering the images his brain had summoned. He let out a deep groan as his leg throbbed from between the two pieces of oak and without thinking, he heaved his body upwards, intent on cradling his limb in his hands. His ribs had other ideas.

His chest constricted violently as his pain spidered outward, radiating internally. His whole body spasmed as each of his injuries resurfaced. He dropped back against the grass, loosing a stream of sobbing curse words that ended on a ravaged cry of pain. He was alone, there was no one here to be brave for, so he let himself swear and weep. It actually made him feel better, he thought, to not have to waste energy on being brave. There was no need for it here and it would do him no good anyway.

He rolled to his side carefully onto his good leg, curling in on himself against the pain. He clutched a hand to his stomach to fight off the urge to hurl, though there had been nothing in his belly for at least three days. He had counted the sunrises and remembered them as a touchstone to reality, the passage of time had no other significance for him now.

Red closed his eyes in the early morning darkness for a moment and willed himself back into his dream. If he concentrated, he could almost see her face. An eerie calm settled over him and for several blissful seconds he forgot the precarious predicament he was in. He drifted, his mind granting him a brief reprieve with her sweet smile rising in his mind, and for a moment, he was almost able to forget.

It was with confusion that he opened his eyes an hour later and was greeted by the bright reds, oranges, and yellows of the waking sun. The warmth of the day chased away the chill that had permeated his bones from spending yet another night on the dewy grass. His limbs were stiff and his back ached, but none of that compared with the persistent throb that seemed to pulse with every heartbeat at the core of his mangled leg.

_Lizzie._

Red closed his eyes against the light, and conjured up her image once again. He imagined the warmth of her body against a cool set of sheets, her soft skin passing beneath his fingertips, the sweet taste of her lips on his. His stomach growled impatiently, drawing him out of his reverie. He rolled onto his back and licked his cracked lips, parched and dry from the sun and lack of water. He turned his head toward the sound of rushing water, so tantalizingly close and so unattainable.

He turned his head back towards the monstrous cliff; the 20 foot rock wall loomed over him like a giant. He had spent the last two days analyzing a route he could take to climb back to civilization. He stared at the wall, his nemesis, with the same weary determination as Sisyphus, pushing his boulder up the hill day after day. Useless, inescapable; he cringed at the inevitability of his own demise.

His chest filled with a cold dread as he came to terms with the daunting realization that he was going to have to climb the wall. He had no other option, if he didn’t do this, he was going to die, of that he was certain. A sudden rush of anger filled his body, he hated this feeling of vulnerability, this feeling of utter hopelessness. He was a man who prided himself on being in complete control of every situation, yet he was bested by his own body.

He was reminded of the last time he had felt such overwhelming hopelessness: the night of the Kings’ auction. The night he had been certain of his own death. The night he had knelt with a gun to his head in a concrete chamber and breathed the last word he ever expected to say. The night she came for him.

But this time, Liz wasn’t here to save him.

With determination surging through his system, Red gritted his teeth and dragged himself over to the base of the cliff. His chest ached with each puff of breath he took and his clobbered figure screamed out in agony. His shoulder raged with each excruciating movement and his leg burned as it slid against the soil.

After an eternity he finally reached the bottom of the rock face, and glanced up, searching for the best place to begin. He reached above his head, wrapping his fingers around a rocky outcropping and pulled. As much as he wanted to cradle his injured arm against his chest, there was no way he was going to make it out with only one good arm and one good leg. With a deep breath, he swung his recently re-located arm above his head and grasped a handhold on a bloodcurdling scream.

Tears poured from his eyes as his breath shuddered out and he heaved himself upward, wedging the toe of his shoe into a space on the cliff. His splinted leg swung free, unable to take any of his weight. He would have to do this with only three limbs. A picture of Liz’s face in his mind, he reached above his head again, pulling himself another foot off the ground.

The rock under his fingers suddenly gave way. He struggled to find purchase elsewhere but his efforts were in vain; his balance abandoned him and he tumbled backwards, plummeting the short distance he had achieved back to the earth. He tried to twist his body so that he landed on his good side but the grass approached too swiftly. The force of the short fall knocked the air from his lungs, his body shuddering to the ground.

He opened his eyes, searching the rock face once more, steeling his fortitude for the climb. This task seemed insurmountable, but he needed to try, he _had_ to, for Lizzie. She was his reason for being, his light in a world full of darkness; for her, he would push through the pain.

For her, he would fight his way up that cliff.

*****

Liz leaned against the tailgate of a pickup, waiting in the dark for word from the rescue teams. She had just returned from her last two-hour shift combing the woods behind Red’s cabin. All around her was the bustle of people and floodlights brightening the night, the heavy drone of a helicopter overhead, and the steady pulse of frenzied anticipation. None of it served to allay the panic in her chest or the loneliness draped over her as she waited for her next shift, tense and restless. She drew her FBI windbreaker tighter around her against the chill of the evening and closed her eyes, replaying her earlier conversation with Dembe in her mind.

_“He’s been radio silent most of the week, Agent Keen.” Dembe’s quiet voice doused her with ice water as she realized that no one knew where he was._

_“What do you mean? Dembe, I don’t understand. If you’ve known he’s been missing all this time, then why didn’t you--?”_

_“He wanted to be alone.” Dembe’s serious voice had dropped even lower as Liz caught the meaning behind his words. “After he left his meeting with you, he asked me to drop him off at the cabin and then sent me off to Hawaii to conclude a business transaction for him.”_

_The silence stretched thinly between them as Liz processed his words._

_“Why didn’t you check on him? What if he’s hurt? What if something’s happened to him?”_

_“Elizabeth, there’s no service at that cabin. I’m on my way back now, but you must know, after all this time with him, that if Raymond does not wish to be found, he won’t be.”_

_She hung her head in resignation, her earlier words ringing in her ears yet again. She stifled a sob and bent her head in anguish, cradling her forehead in her palm._

_“Elizabeth,” Dembe’s voice tugged at her through the miles that separated them. “It’s going to be ok, but I need you to tell me what’s happened between you.”_

_She did sob then, crying out against the pain constricting her chest. “Oh, Dembe, I’ve been just awful to him. I blamed him for everything and I told him he was selfish and I-- I sent him away.” Her voice broke on the last word and she collapsed in on herself, weeping with all her regret._

_He sighed on the other end of the line, as if he were contemplating the whole of their relationship and that it had boiled down to this single moment. Finally, he spoke again._

_“There are many things in life that are unforgivable, Elizabeth, but nothing you have done is one of them. Raymond is very forgiving when it comes to you. He has a certain blind spot where you are concerned. The depth of what he feels for you is unlike anything I have ever observed with any other couple in all my travels around the world. He...feels something for you that he hasn’t felt for another person in a very long time, perhaps not ever. Everything can be mended with time.”_

_Liz sniffled into the phone, his words permeating the fog of despair and she latched onto them as if they were a lifeline thrown out into the sea of her tumultuous emotions._

_“We have to find him.” Her voice was resolute._

_“We will.”_

Six hours later, Dembe had touched down in Washington and Liz had assembled an FBI rescue task force to search the area around the cabin Dembe had directed them to. It had been a day of exasperating waiting. Liz’s worry had been palpable as she waited for Dembe to call back with the coordinates after confirming that no one else on his team had heard from him, waited for the rescue team to convene, waited for word that someone had found him, waited for the mandatory rest period to pass before she could go out again herself and look for him. Waiting. It was the waiting that would make her insane.

“Liz! Dembe! I found him!” Ressler’s voice crackled over the radio in her hand.

She stared at it in disbelief. They had _found_ him! She leapt up from the tailgate and raced into the trees, careening through the woods in the direction Ressler’s team had taken.

“Coordinates!” She shouted into her two-way as she ran, clutching it as if it were the beacon of all her hope.

They came back haltingly as another team member charted their location. In the background, she heard Ressler giving orders for a stretcher and ropes. He was injured; he must have fallen.

Branches smashed against her, scratching her bare arms as she headed in the direction of Ressler’s voice. She could hear Dembe crashing through the woods somewhere to her right, calling for her to wait, but she pushed on, heedless of his warnings. The rhythmic thrumming of a helicopter overhead marked her passage through the woods; she followed the sound of it to her destination. She slowed only when the searchlights of Ressler’s team came into view, nearly tumbling into another agent in her haste to reach her partner.

“Where is he?” She shouted her question over the whir of the helicopter blades, the wind whipping her shortened locks around her face.

Ressler pointed over a partially-hidden ledge that she hadn’t even noticed before. She gasped and lunged forward to see for herself. Ressler caught her arm, pulling her against his chest in a tight hug to keep her from looking.

“Don’t.” His words were clipped, low. “Don’t look, Liz. It isn’t good.”


	4. Chapter 4

“How is he, Kate?” Dembe’s voice accosted her the minute she walked out of the room.

Kate motioned for them to sit back down. She clasped her hands nervously in front of her where she stood before them.

“He’s in a bad way, I won’t lie to you. His skull is cracked, thankfully, there wasn’t any damage done to his brain. There is a minor hairline fracture running the length of the metacarpal bone in his pinky finger.” Kate took a deep breath before continuing. “The rest of his injuries are more severe. He has three cracked ribs, his leg is shattered, and his shoulder is dislocated, though it appears he relocated it himself. He also somehow managed to set his leg on his own. He’s severely dehydrated, but they’re giving him fluids intravenously now.” She pulled her spectacles from her face and released a heavy sigh. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. He is very lucky to be alive.”

Tears streamed down Liz’s cheeks uncontrolled; Red was hurt and she couldn’t help but feel that it was completely her fault. If she hadn’t fought with him, if she hadn’t pushed him away, if she hadn’t blamed him, if she hadn’t...if she hadn’t…

Dembe rested a heavy hand on her back, between her shoulder blades.

“Elizabeth, you can’t blame yourself. This is in no way your fault.”

She faced him abruptly. “There is _nothing_ you can say to convince me of that!”

Dembe sighed and hung his head for a moment in quiet contemplation. “You know, if you spent half your time actually seeing him for the man he is rather than feeling guilty about how you treated him after the fact, you would save the both of you a lot of heartache!”

Liz sat back, staring at him, in stunned silence. She had never heard Dembe raise his voice before, had never seen his temper climb. It stung, to have his indignation aimed at her. She watched him stand and turn away from her in disgust, stalking the halls towards Red’s recovery room.

Kate took Dembe’s seat, covering Liz’s hand with hers. “Don’t fret too much over it, dearie. He’s had a fright, too. He’s just worried about Raymond; we all are.”

“Oh, Kate, it’s so much more than that,” Lizzie sighed, turning her tear-stained face to the older woman’s. “I didn’t know...I just, oh, I’ve been such a fool!”

Kate wrapped her arms around Liz’s shoulder, drawing her into her side firmly.

“I’ve wasted so much time! I didn’t realize, I didn’t know...and he was right there in front of me the whole time and I just didn’t see him. I judged him and I didn’t listen and I--”

“Shhh,” Kate cut her off. “It’s alright, dearie. We all make mistakes.”

Liz continued blubbering as if she hadn’t heard. “I didn’t know until he was gone and, my god, he could have _died_! Why, Kate? Why was I so stupid?”

Kate rocked her, in an uncharacteristic show of warmth, until Liz’s sobs finally quieted. She drew back from her, smoothing the hair out of her face.

“The important thing,” she looked her squarely in the eye, “is that he _didn’t_ die. The important thing is that you do have time, you do have a second chance to tell him, to show him, to change. This is your second chance, Elizabeth. Don’t waste it.”

Liz nodded her understanding and rose from her seat. Kate nodded in the direction of Raymond’s room, prodding her gently towards the door. She passed Dembe leaving his room and she ducked her head at him.

“I--I’m sorry.” Her murmured apology prompted him to reach out a hand to her, clasping her gently on the shoulder.

“Go in. He’s asking for you.”

She nodded, fresh tears washing her cheeks at his acceptance. She pushed the door open and bit back a gasp at the sight of Red’s mangled body, casted limbs sticking out stiffly from beneath stark white sheets. She stumbled to his bedside, falling into a nearby chair, her hands reaching for his tentatively.

His eyes fluttered open a fraction, just enough to catch sight of her face.

“Lizzie…” he groaned, his voice even deeper than usual from the meds and lack of water.

“Hey.” She leaned into him, a small grateful smile gracing her lips, her voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

Red shifted, wincing in discomfort. “Been better.”

“What can I do?”

“Stay?”

“Of course, always.” Her fingers tightened on his where they lay against the sheet. She felt an irresistible urge to press her lips against his knuckles and she wondered for the hundredth time why it had taken this to make her realize how precious he was to her.

Red focused his gaze on her tear-stained face, his brows furrowed. “You’ve been crying.”

She nodded, ducking her head away from his eyes, and bit back another swell of emotion.

“Sweetheart--”

The dam inside her broke and her tears and all the words she’d longed to say to him for the last four days poured out of her in a torrent of passionate dedication.

“Oh my god, Red, I am so sorry!” She clutched his hand to her frantically. “I didn’t mean any of what I said. I should never...it wasn’t true, you haven’t made my life worse, you’ve made it _better_.” She sobbed between her statements. “I just...oh I never knew...what you meant to me...until you were nearly gone and I--I’m so sorry that this happened to you, that I did this!”

Red constricted his hand around hers. “Lizzie, what happened to me, it was not and is not your fault.”

“I’m so happy you’re alive...I couldn’t imagine...my life without you now.” She dropped her eyes to her lap, embarrassed until he tucked a finger under her chin, drawing her eyes up to meet his. “I...I didn’t know, until you were gone, Red, but…I…” The words stuck in her throat.

Through the haze of Morphine, he knew what she needed to hear. He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, a tear sliding along his skin. There was a fierceness in his eyes when he spoke to her, his voice quiet and rough. “I love you, Lizzie.”

Her face cracked again, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. “I love you, too!”

“Come here.” He gently tugged on her hand.

He slipped his hand from her grip, sliding it through her disheveled waves and drew her towards him.

She pressed her lips to his and it was like she could finally breathe again.

*****

Red thought his least favorite thing about being injured was the immobility. He had only been laid up for five days and already he was stir-crazy with inactivity.

“Good morning!” Liz breezed into his room with a tray full of bagels, settling it over his extended legs. Bringing him treats had become the highlight of her day for the past week. “I heard you’ve been a terrible patient.”

“I’m going insane here, Lizzie; I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

She smiled at him, her hands nervously fluttering near his arm on the bed. The compulsion to kiss him was there, as it had been ever since their first kiss in the hospital, but she held back, apprehensive.

“Where’s my kiss?”

Her smile widened, brightening like the sun, and she leaned down to touch her lips to his gently. It was a hello, a reminder, an apology, a song.

Red sighed against her mouth, relaxing into her touch. He shifted on the bed, the fingers of his unbroken hand coming up to trace the edge of her jaw delicately.

“Okay, maybe being cooped up isn’t so bad after all.”

She grinned at him, pulling back and settling onto the bed next to him. Her fingers sought his out to twine together and rest on the sheets.

“Give Dembe a break, would you? I swear, it’s harder on him when you’re out of commission than it is on you.”

Red grumbled goodnaturedly. “Oh, he’s just lucky to have you to complain to.” His thumb absentmindedly stroked the backs of her knuckles. “Lizzie, can we talk?”

“Of course.” She looked at him thoughtfully. There hadn’t been time yet, since the hospital, since they’d professed their love, to discuss their feelings and what it all meant.

“I want to talk about us.”

“Yes.” She was eager to have this conversation, had played out possible scenarios in her head all night, but she had no idea how to begin.

Red moved his gaze to their hands, unable to look at her. “Is there an us? I mean I know what you said in the hospital, but was that because you were scared? Or did you mean it?”

Liz felt as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs. That he could even think she was questioning the possibility of them after everything they had been through was unforgivable.

“Red, no.” She clutched his hand tighter, pulling closer to him. “I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Good. Because I meant it, too.”

“I _want_ there to be an us.” Unexpectedly, tears glittered in her eyes. She needed him to understand how much he meant to her, needed to make him see how much almost losing him had cost her.

“When I was on that ledge, I was prepared to die.” Red swallowed, feeling his own tears building. “But, then I thought about you, about never seeing you again. You gave me the strength to fight through the pain. I love you, Lizzie, and I don’t ever want to be without you.”

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She nodded at his words in earnest. “I don’t want to waste any more time. We’ve already lost so much.”

Red beamed up at her. He untangled his fingers from hers and threaded them though her brown tresses. “God, I wish I wasn’t stuck in this bed.”

She smiled at him brightly through her tears. She leaned in close and rested her forehead against his. “Me too,” she whispered.

Red cocked an eyebrow, a devilish grin spread across his handsome face. “Well, just because the majority of my body is down for the count, doesn’t mean other parts of me can’t...rise to the challenge.”

“Easy there tiger,” Liz pulled back, her fingers unfurled against his bandaged chest. “We have plenty of time for that later. Right now you need to rest and let your body heal.”

He pouted up at her. “That isn’t fair. I’ve only just gotten you to admit you love me and now I can’t do anything about it?”

Liz smirked at him and turned snag another blanket from the foot of the bed. She thought she heard him mumble “stupid bear” under his breath but she couldn’t be sure.

She draped the blanket across his legs, carefully adjusting it around the elevated one. She climbed into bed next to him and settled as close to him as she could be without jostling anything that would cause him pain. Liz looked up at him, her head propped on one bent arm. “Well….” she began suggestively. “Aren’t you going to butter me a bagel?”

He grinned at her, and solicitously reached for a bagel, spreading cream cheese across it and feeding a bite to her. Her lips closed delicately over the tip of his finger and she swiped her tongue over the pad of his thumb. He shivered involuntarily at the sensual touch. Her eyes stayed on his as she finished the bite and smiled up at him.

“Umm…” He cleared his throat. “You aren’t playing fair.”

She quirked a brow at him and opened her mouth for another bite.

“You have a tiny bit of cream cheese there.” He gestured at the edge of her delectable mouth.

“Well then, you’d better help me clean it off.” She crawled up his pillow and planted a gentle kiss against his lips. He deepened it, his arms winding around her back over the tray.

Liz leaned into his chest as the mattress shifted under her weight. She slid forward, bracing one hand against his shoulder lightly for balance. His sharp intake of breath forced her to seize immediately. Her eyes sprang open and she scrambled off of him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you ok?”

Red breathed heavily, biting back the scream of pain. His hands balled into fists against the bed and he pounded one against the mattress, fighting off the spasm. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

She smoothed her hands over his face, stroking her fingers across the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

She pressed gentle kisses to his temple where a fine sheen of perspiration had broken out across his brow. She murmured to him while he fought to relax his rigid muscles.

His breathing gradually slowed and his body relaxed, his head finally flopping back against the pillows. “I’m fine, Lizzie, just need to be a bit more careful.”

“What can I do?” Her whisper ghosted across his ear where her head rested on his pillow next to his.

“You could kiss it better.” His pained tone was laced with playfulness.

Her eyes widened. His ability to switch from one emotion to another with such effortless grace never failed to surprise her.

“Yeah? Where would I start?” She returned his mischievousness with her own shy, good-natured tease.

A wolfish grin creased his face. “Well, since you broke me, I think my shoulder would be a good place to start.”

Liz regarded him skeptically for a moment; then she smiled slightly and dropped her head, planting a light peck on the rounded muscle of his shoulder.

“You know, my pinky could use a little TLC.” He shifted his sling-encased arm, offering the braced digit to her.

She bit back a smile at his impish demeanor and pressed the barest of kisses against the tip of his pinky finger.

“And, uh...my head.” He gestured to his shorn skull. “It took quite a beating.”

A soft chuckle bubbled past her lips, but she obliged him, her lips meeting his temple, the crown of his head, the hollow behind his ear.

Red’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “I think my nose, might have gotten banged up.”

Liz rolled her eyes with a smile above his head where he couldn’t see. A bit more deliberately, she dropped down over him and kissed the very tip of his nose.

“And, I’m fairly certain that my cheek sustained some injury.”

“Did it now?” There was humor in her voice and in her eyes as she turned them to his, her face hovering just inches over him.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Ah,” she conceded. “Well, then. We wouldn’t want to neglect any injured body part now, would we?”

He shook his head as if they were having the most serious conversation in the world. “No, no we would not. That could have...disastrous results for all parties involved.”

“Well, in that case…” She closed her eyes and lowered her pursed lips towards the high curve of his cheekbone, wondering vaguely just how far he was going to take this game.

Red twisted his head sharply, capturing her lips with his. She drew in a surprised breath an instant before he felt her smile against his mouth.

She drew back long moments later, a satisfied smile on her face. “You’re a thief,” she accused.

“Stealing kisses?” he quipped. “Who, me?”

She laughed softly, her head cocked to one side, sunlight streaming behind her head.

“Yes, you. You’re insufferable.”

His eyes grew serious. “I like to hear you laugh. You don’t do it often enough; I feel like that’s my fault.” He peered at her with a sincere question in his gaze. “What can I do to make you smile like that again?”

Her smile slipped away. “Get well,” she told him seriously. “Rest and get better and then we’ll go away. We’ll...figure out who we are together.”

“I’d like that.” He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Where would you like to go?”

She closed her eyes for a bit, thinking.

“We could go _anywhere_.”

After a moment, she opened her eyes and met his gaze, a small smile resting on her lips. “I’ve always wanted to go to Chile.”

“Really?”

She shifted on the bed so that she was sitting cross legged next to him. “Yeah, there’s a ghost town in the Atacama Desert. Everything’s perfectly preserved; it’s as if nothing has changed, but the people just...up and left for no reason one day.” She gestured with her hands as she spoke, the excitement evident on her face.

Red let a hearty chuckle, seeing Liz this exuberant was just as wonderful as witnessing her smile. “Chile it is then,” he decided.

She giggled at him. “What about you? Where have you always wanted to go?”

Red rolled his eyes to the ceiling, making a show of pondering her question.

“Is there anywhere you _haven’t_ traveled to?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

“I’ve always wanted to visit Nebraska.”

She laughed outright, a jubilant sound that cascaded over his senses like a waterfall of joy.

“There’s that sweet, sweet sound again.” He reached across his chest, easily slipping into her hair.

“Out of all the places in the world we could go, you pick _Nebraska?_ ” She laughed between words.

“Well,” Red reasoned, “it is a very special place.”

She giggled haltingly a few more times, the amusement hiccupping out of her as she came back to herself.

“It’s not that special.”

“Oh, I think it’s very special, Lizzie.”

Her laughter faded away as she read the sincerity in his eyes.

He squeezed her hand. “I want to show you just how special you are to me. When my body heals, I want to spend the rest of my life showing you.”

“I didn’t know how much you meant to me until you were almost gone.” Her voice cracked a bit. “I don’t care where we go as long as I can spend whatever time we have reminding you how important you are to me.”

He held her gaze fiercely, conveying all his raw emotion into words. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

“Oh, Red,” she breathed, reaching forward to cup his cheek in her palm.

She leaned in to place another kiss to his soft lips. She wanted all the things he promised her and so much more. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> squeal?


End file.
